Celebrating Sensuality. Intended for mature audiences, 18 and over

In this garden at mid-day,
your beauty is bright,
your smile and eyes of joy.
Laughing and dancing, you are
opened petals absorbing the sun,
sharing your sweet scent with the world.
The flowers sway with you,
grateful to be appreciated,
for their hard work to become
color and nectar
is now seen and loved.

In this garden at dusk,
your beauty has softened,
a dark translucent curtain covers you.
You linger here and there,
loving the sky’s colors of the tail end
of the sunset, a dying light
glorious in its death for the
reminder of mortality and the
wish for remembrance in another day.

In this garden at evening,
your beauty has deepened
into mysteries where I must
search the dark depths
mostly finding just glimpses of you.
Elusive as you are,
I continue my pursuit,
shrubs rubbing my cheeks,
thorns tearing my clothes–
as if to protect you from me.
But these flowers are merely jealous,
eventually they turn away and sleep
as I find you, embrace you
ensure that you will not rush off–
but you whisper,I’ll stay, of course I’ll stay with you
as we lay on the grass of a garden path
trying to be as quiet as possible
to not wake up any of the flowers.

I’m trying to not let many months pass between my posts. While working on stories, I miss hanging around WordPress — and sometimes, I miss writing shorter work, which gives the satisfaction of finishing well before months of effort. I won’t try to keep a regular schedule, as I doubt that would last. So I’ll drop in when I can, and I’ll post some poetry. Here’s today’s…

*****

Handmade paper
as he wrote
her a poem
trying to
express his love.

Every word
felt clumsy
stumbling over
the next word.

The ink spreading
on his fingers
like blood
as if his heart
seeped through them.

Finally finished,
he gave her the paper,
and her eyes
told him the poem
was just right.

Following up on yesterday’s post about my new novel, Lucky, being free until Sunday, June 25, I wanted to post an excerpt from the novel. Here’s the start of chapter 1:

*******

Hugo Freeman stared in disbelief at the lottery ticket in his hand, then at the television screen. But the string of numbers had vanished from the screen, replaced by the guy with poofed-up hair and cheese-ball grin and shiny suit.

“There you have it, folks,” the TV guy said in his ain’t everything great voice. “Congratulations to the lucky winners! If you’re not one of those, be sure to try again next week. Who knows when your luck will turn on the Cloud Nine Lottery? Good night folks!”

Cut to a commercial for some kind of drug to alleviate some kind of painful symptoms.

Hugo’s attention was more on the ticket than the screen. Did he win? The numbers that were on TV had seemed to match those on his ticket. Maybe some of the numbers were close. Was there a 39 in the winning numbers, or had it been 29?

Impossible that he matched every winning number. The chances of matching were astronomically against him — and everyone else who played Cloud Nine every week with the hope of picking the five regular numbers and the Lightning Strike number. Thousands of people across the many states where Cloud Nine was offered. All those people handing over a dollar for each ticket, buying several tickets every time.

Hugo had seen it happen regularly. He played regularly, too. Five tickets each week, never the same number. Some people played the same numbers with meanings: birthdays, anniversaries, and such. Hugo didn’t understand the idea behind that strategy. As if luck was somehow bound to catch up with numbers meaningful to a certain person.

It was like driving the same car on the same road and thinking the road would end up in a paradise of sexy beachgoers who handed you a tropical drink and invited you to join the party. But, in reality, the road led to the same Goddamn places it had always did. Same bullshit houses, same bullshit stores.

He would find out the winning numbers tomorrow, at work. He’d wait until Darnell was in his office doing paperwork, then Hugo would pull out the ticket and compare his numbers against the official ones. The numbers had looked close on TV, but that didn’t win anything. No prize for close. Only right on the money got you the money.

Hold on. The Internet didn’t provide answers to everything, but it gave a lot of answers. Would Cloud Nine’s website have the numbers so soon after the little plastic numbered balls were lifted out of the glass box, where they swirled in a mini tornado? It was worth checking out.

Hugo turned on his old laptop and retrieved a Budweiser from the fridge while the computer woke up. Taking a drink of beer, he knew he didn’t win. He never did. He was used to the slowness of his laptop, but it irritated him as he sat on the couch and watched the computer on the coffee table. He wanted to be done with this chore. See that his numbers were close losers, then he could wrap up Friday night.

Well, plans don’t always unfold smoothly. My novel wasn’t published during May, as I hoped — but it’s only a little late.

Lucky is not only available, but free until Sunday, June 25. Afterwards, this ebook will cost $2.99.

This story grew out of the mention of a movie that two characters in my novel The Sweet Taste of Revenge watch in a hotel room. I liked the idea of the movie, so I decided to write the story behind it. The movie was described as a comedy, but the novel was written to be more romantic and erotic than humorous (still, I hope readers find some parts funny).

The plot:

Hugo Freeman has become an (almost) overnight millionaire. Lots of people play the lottery in the hope of quick riches, and Hugo is one of the very lucky ones, giving him the freedom to quit his job at a convenience store and not have to worry about working for the rest of his life.

Then come the big questions: What to do next? Where to live? Stay in the (fictional) small town of Linden, Ohio — or relocate to a more exciting locale, as benefitting a rich bachelor?

Lovely temptations lay in exciting Miami, and Hugo enjoys them during a vacation. On his return home, Hugo’s friends claim he’s become a stranger in town. But help to find his way is not far off — and it comes with delicious cupcakes.

Please note this story contains mature content meant for readers of 18 years and older. The story includes descriptions of sexual activity between consenting adults. Please do not read if that offends you.

Once again, several months have passed since I last posted here. As before my previous post, I’ve been quite busy with writing, working, and family. But everyone I know is quite busy, so I’m certainly not alone with that.

One of the projects that’s been keeping me busy is River — the working title of a novel I finished writing last year, and I’ve been editing it this year. I’m pleased to say that I plan on self-publishing the novel in May. The editing process seemed to take longer than it did, but I’ve grown to I appreciate the process of re-shaping of the story. Compared to the first draft, it’s more stream-lined and tighter. Hopefuly, making it a more enjoyable read.

I’ll give more info when the book becomes live on Amazon, as I’m still working on making it a little tighter. But it feels good to be almost finished. With the warmer temperatures of spring, it’s like the book is coming out of hibernation.

It’s certainly been a while since my last post, and please know that I’m still alive and kicking 🙂

This past summer, I was tugged in different directions that took me away from posting on my blog. Increased work in my day job was the main culprit.

Outside of my day job, I questioned if I should continue writing under my pen name. If I retired August MacGregor, that would simplify my writing life, allowing me to focus more on writing under my real name.

This question has popped up several times before, so it’s nothing new. The question visits me every so often, under the temptation of simplifying life.

However, the stories have a stronger temptation. Stories that fit under my real name’s writing, then more romantic and erotic stories that fit better under August. These stories have urged me to keep going, saying they want me to complete them.

I’ve listened to a couple of the stories, and I finished the initial drafts for two August MacGregor novels. That quieted down the urges a bit — and it felt good to reach that point with the stories. I’ve put the initial drafts to the side, and I’ll go back to them early next year. (Billionaire and River are their working titles.)

In the meantime, my attention turned to writing stories that fit under my real name. Which means the activity that has suffered is posting here on my blog. Unfortunately, it will continue to suffer as I keep putting more energy into my day job, family responsibilities, and fiction writing.

I don’t have a clear sense of when I’ll come back to being on WordPress regularly. I miss posting, and I miss reading posts from my blogging friends. I hope you guys are doing well.